


Grave Flowers

by fairychangeling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Flowers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6236332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairychangeling/pseuds/fairychangeling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt:</p><p>“Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the "girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard" AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grave Flowers

Castiel wasn’t obsessive.

It was natural that he’d notice flowers going missing from the garden he’d so carefully tended since he moved into his little house on the corner of Oak Avenue. 

Admittedly, it was probably less natural that he was now loitering in the shadows at an upstairs window, waiting for the flower thief to show himself. 

The flowers had been disappearing with regularity every two weeks on Friday. Castiel had surmised that his thief was probably male, probably worked a low paying job and he had a theory that the thief stole his flowers to give to his Friday night date. He’d also watched a lot of detective shows, mulling over the identity of his thief, but that was neither here nor there.

The important thing now was catching his thief in the act.

Downstairs, Castiel heard the squeaky front gate open and shut. He couldn’t see it from his vantage point, but the squeaky hinges had proved a blessing. He’d put off fixing them for just this reason: to catch his thief red handed. Also, he’d discovered he liked having a forewarning that visitors were approaching, but again that was arbitrary. 

Castiel kept his vigil as his thief came into sight around the garden path.

Castiel couldn’t say exactly what he’d imagined his thief to look like, but the young man in his garden surprised him. He was handsome. Even from his vantage point upstairs Castiel could see that. The man couldn’t be older than twenty, maybe not even that. He was boyishly good looking, and Castiel found himself wondering what color his eyes were. 

He shook his head, trying to remind himself of the task in hand. The next part of his plan involved confronting the man. He didn’t want to be side tracked by some pretty face. A face that maybe wasn’t even that pretty up close. At least, Castiel hoped so. 

He stayed upstairs just long enough to see the man begin to hunt through the beds of flowers, plucking out the biggest and brightest of Castiel’s blooms, before he turned away and headed for the stairs, rushing down them two at a time. 

He burst out of the front door, sprinted around the corner of the house, and almost collided with his handsome thief who was about to sneak away, bouquet in hand.

The man was even more handsome close up, stunningly so, with bright green eyes and freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks. Castiel could have got lost counting those freckles. 

“Fuck,” the thief swore. “Look, I can explain…”

“I just hope she’s pretty enough to warrant this,” Castiel said. 

Confusion clouded the strange man’s green eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“Your date,” Castiel clarified. “The one you’re stealing flowers for. I hope she’s pretty enough to warrant flower theft. What’s your name?”

The young man hesitated for a moment, eyes darting this way and that as if searching for the best route of escape. Castiel stepped forward, planning to block him, possibly tackle him if necessary. 

After a long pause, the young man sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Dean,” he said, “My name’s Dean.”

“Well, Dean, I’m Castiel and I grew these flowers you’ve been stealing. I took great care with them and I want to see if your girlfriend is worth all of my hard time and effort as well as your criminal tendencies.”

The hunted look crept back into Dean’s eyes, but Castiel grabbed hold of his arm, slowing as he felt the muscle bulging there. Castiel was no slouch, he ran and he was in pretty good shape for someone his age, but Dean was younger than him and Castiel didn’t believe he’d stand much of a chance if Dean wanted to put up a fight. 

He stayed very still, staring into Dean’s face, his fingers clenched around Dean’s arm.

Dean sighed again, turning his head away.

“Fine,” he muttered. “You’ve got it all figured out, so let’s get going.”

Castiel clung on to Dean, pressed tightly against him as they walked, leaving the garden and the safety of his house for the street. He didn’t want Dean to make a break for it now, even though he was starting to reconsider his choice of action. He’d been high on his plans success, high on his own bravery, that now he was about to break up a date to arbitrate on if a young woman was worth the theft of some flowers and out her boyfriend as a thief to her. 

He hadn’t actually planned what he would do once he caught Dean, it had come to him on the spur of the moment, but now Castiel wondered if it was the best plan he could have come up with. 

If he’d had longer to think, he might have come up with something better.

They walked down the street together, taking a direction Castiel knew, the road towards the town center where Dean’s date was probably waiting for him in some restaurant or bar, but then a sudden turn had them moving away from the road that led into town and towards the outskirts instead. Maybe they were going to a house, maybe Dean was supposed to pick his date up?

They continued walking until, with a heavy heart, Castiel started to notice the street signs, the direction they were pointing in and the depressing words written on them. 

He had a good idea of where they were headed, but his heart still sank as they walked through the cemetery gates.

Dean didn’t say anything, just marched them between the neat rows of graves, down a path he obviously knew by heart until they stopped at one of the graveyards. A bouquet of flowers, the ones Castiel grew in his garden, where nestled against the headstone, but those had started to decay and die. Dean had been stealing today’s replacement. 

Castiel stared at the tombstone, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

 _Mary Winchester_ , the tombstone read, _Beloved Wife and Mother_. 

“Hello, mom,” Dean said, his voice strained. “I know I don’t usually bring people with me, but this is Castiel. He grew the flowers I brought you.”

Castiel said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. He still hadn’t let go of Dean’s arm, was clinging to him now because he thought he might sink to the ground in his shame if he didn’t.

“And no, mom, I’m not introducing you because he’s my boyfriend. I stole those flowers and he wanted to know if the girl I was stealing them for was worth it.”

Dean cast him a sly glance from the corner of his eye, daring Castiel to contradict the unspoken statement, to say that Dean’s mother wasn’t worth the flowers. 

Castiel swallowed, his mouth feeling dry.

“No, I think this is a very worthy use of my flowers,” he croaked, his voice betraying him.

Dean smiled at him. It wasn’t an unkind smile. It was actually very nice.

“And now I know why you’re taking them, I don’t mind if you come again,” Castiel said. 

“Yeah? Well, that’s good to know,” Dean said, catching himself as if he realized just how long he’d been smiling at Cas, turning his face away again. 

“And you don’t have to sneak in. You can talk to me. I’d like that,” Castiel said quietly. 

He would like to talk to Dean. He would like to know more about him, about his mother and his family, about what happened to him and how he was coping and if he needed someone like Castiel to help, because Castiel could help. He could be there for Dean. 

He would like to be there for Dean.

“Maybe I will,” Dean said, smiling again.

Something in his tone told Castiel that Dean would be back. It might not be next Friday, not after everything that had happened today, but it would be soon. 

He would see Dean out in his garden again.


End file.
